the Answer
by the Chronic Meltdown
Summary: In all honesty, Quinn hadn't meant for it to happen. It had not been her intention to witness their break-up. Faberry, post-Journey.


the Answer

In all honesty, Quinn hadn't meant for it to happen.

She'd started out the day just fine, and had made it to glee club in the very same fashion. She'd paid attention in all of her classes, and had sat by Kurt and Mercedes at lunch, and she'd even held a perfectly normal conversation with Tina, despite the fact that she didn't know the other girl very well. She'd staved off all of Puck's usual advances, and had managed to avoid any sort of contact with Finn, Rachel, and _FinnandRachel_. Santana and Brittany were actually speaking to her, and the Latina had actually managed to keep her acerbic tongue in check for a surprising three-fourths of the time they'd spent together.

Students still didn't part like the Red Sea, but they didn't ignore her anymore, either. And it wasn't like she was regaining her popularity, but…she was no longer invisible, and that meant more to her than most people realized.

So, really, it had been a good day. It had been a perfectly normal day.

She hadn't meant for it to happen. She hadn't meant to walk in on Finn, and Rachel, and _FinnandRachel _while on her way to glee club_._

It had not been her intention to witness their break-up.

-o-

"I don't get it." he muttered, his face crumpling in frustration, "Why is it always me? I mean, why does it always have to be my fault?"

Quinn stood frozen at the doorway, her hand still placed against the door to keep it open, her body already halfway inside the room. She watched with a distinct sense of detachment as Rachel moved forward and towards him, as she tried to grip the sleeves of his shirt but failed as he wrenched himself away. He was angry, but also hurting.

It was only the second time Quinn had ever seen him that way. And the first had been when he'd found out that she and Puck…

"It's _not_, Finn." the brunette replied, her voice laced with that same, desperate need to be understood that Quinn had, throughout the years, come to know so well, "I swear it's not. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I must have." His mouth twisted into a bitter, self-deprecating smile that she'd never seen before. "Why else would you be dumping me?"

This revelation left her floundering in shock and gave her the distinct impression that she should have probably left the premises a really, really long while ago. She promptly turned on her heel and walked out, making sure to shut the door quietly behind her. Oddly enough, she only managed to take a few more steps before she had to stop and lean against a wall, if only to properly process the information.

Strangely enough, the revelation that Finn and Rachel weren't going to last did not fill her with joy. Sure, it didn't make her feel bad, either, but…

She'd known this was going to happen. Honestly, it'd been pretty obvious from the start. One would have expected her to feel _vindicated_ or something, but the truth was that she didn't. She was surprised, too, but that was only because _Rachel_ was dumping _Finn_, instead of the other way around.

She would have thought that after all the trouble the brunette had gone through to get him-

Just then, the door opened and Finn stormed out, his shoulders hunched the way they usually did when he was inordinately upset. He passed by her without a second glance- though, for a moment there, his gaze had seemed to darken as it had taken her in.  
It made her feel distinctly jittery and somewhat anxious, for a reason she did not understand.

When he disappeared around the corner, and Rachel Berry did not emerge from the room herself, Quinn found herself particularly, disconcertingly concerned. He hadn't done anything stupid, had he?

Her eyebrows drawn together, she cautiously approached the doorway and, hesitantly, twisted the knob. She stepped inside the room, her eyes instantly focusing on the small-looking girl sitting in one of the chairs closest to the exit. Her shoulders were hunched, too. She looked so _tiny_ it made Quinn feel a stab of pity.

No, seriously. She felt like she'd been stabbed. It was fairly akin to seeing a kicked puppy lying in a puddle in the middle of the street, as though waiting to die.

With a quiet sigh, even though every nerve ending in her body was telling her to leave, she let the door close behind her and walked further inside. She moved until she was standing beside the girl, and then stepped in front and to her other side, so she could sink down on the chair next to hers. She gathered her hands in her lap and looked straight ahead, feeling utterly awkward when Rachel looked up sharply and, upon seeing whom it was, simply _stared_ at her. Honestly, she felt like an ant under a microscope.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, and snapped, without looking at her, "Would you please stop _staring_ at me?"

The girl beside her shifted and redirected her gaze to the floor. "Sorry," she murmured, seeming to hunch in on herself even more. Quinn instantly wanted to take her words back.

She was there to offer the girl some comfort, not make her feel even worse. Curse the pregnancy for giving her feelings. It could have at least had the decency to grant her some kind of instruction manual. She wasn't used to feeling guilty.

"No, I…" she started out, before faltering. She sighed audibly. "No." she said softly, fidgeting slightly in her seat so she could look at Rachel a little better. "It's okay. I just feel…"

Rachel looked up at her with a strange little expression. It reminded her of the day Finn had found out, and how the girl had been almost awkward and tentative with the way she'd approached her afterwards, saying she owed her an apology. But this time, Rachel was also oddly matter-of-fact, like she knew exactly what Quinn was feeling.

"Strange?" the girl offered helpfully, tilting her head, a little.

"Yes…" she nodded a short, jerky bob that definitely left no room for interpretation. She was very obviously feeling uncomfortable, and it was funny because she was usually so good at the whole comforting thing. She supposed that it had to do with the fact that this was _Rachel,_ and that they had all sorts of twisted history stacked up between them, and, yeah, she guessed it was only natural. "This is making me feel strange."

At this, the other girl looked almost bemused. "Well, I appreciate the fact that you're trying, even if you're currently failing miserably at what you set out to do."

"I didn't set out to do anything." she snapped defensively, but when Rachel sort of winced away and she felt that stabbing feeling again, she looked down at her hands, letting her hair fall around her as a sort of curtain. "Sorry." she said curtly, her cheeks beginning to sting with embarrassment.

"It's okay…" Rachel said softly, her hands moving down to grip the edges of the chair.

They spent several moments there, sitting in silence. Quinn was beginning to wonder if she'd temporarily lost her mind when she'd decided to come in here and comfort Rachel _friggin'_ Berry. Really, _what _had she been _thinking_?

She had very nearly decided to stand up and leave her there when the brunette spoke up again.

"I think there's something wrong with me."

Quinn's inner bitch very nearly had a field day, but she swallowed it down and instead asked her, as seriously as she could achieve, "Why?"

"I want things, too much." The blonde didn't say anything, even as her brow furrowed again. "That, and…" she said softly, before taking an indiscreet peek in her direction, "There's a part of me that really, really thinks I don't deserve to be loved."

There was silence, again. Quinn bit her lower lip, before sneaking a glance of her own. Rachel was staring down at the floor, her eyes focused on a particular spot of dirt shaped a little like an eggplant. The blonde girl sighed awkwardly.

"Well…" she started out, all the while thinking that Santana would probably never let her live this down if she were to ever hear about it. "That part's the pinnacle of idiocy."

Rachel blanked and looked at her incredulously. It made Quinn flush.

"Okay, if we're doing this, then you have to stop looking at me," she ground out, utterly embarrassed. "Got it, Berry?"

The little brunette turned to face straight ahead, her mouth quivering with something Quinn really, _really_ didn't understand. "Okay." she said, and fell silent.

It seemed to her like she was really, really struggling with her request. Still, it made it easier for the blonde to continue.

"It's…it's stupid, because you're…" Quinn made a face. "_…ridiculously_ talented," And at this, she could _feel_ Rachel's grin, "…and…even though you have no semblance of a fashion sense, you're…actually…kind of…_pretty_…" the brunette shot her another look, though this time, she didn't manage to catch it because she turned her own, _burning_, face away. "…underneath all of that disgusting argyle."

"I will now ignore your insults," she replied, sniffing a little, seemingly indignant, "and instead focus on the good points of your little monologue." She hesitated, for a few moments, before asking, "You think I'm beautiful?"

And Quinn was now officially mortified.

"I said _pretty_." she retorted quickly, shifting around to meet Rachel's awed expression with a red-faced glare. "_Not_ beautiful."

This did not deter the brunette in the slightest. Actually, now she was looking at Quinn with an expression that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Something flopped around in her chest. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Why in the world was Berry looking at her with such big eyes and…?

There was an emotion in them she didn't recognize, one that she wasn't sure she even wanted to.

"That's good enough…" Rachel breathed out, in a way that made the blonde girl want to edge away and edge closer at the same time.

"What…is?" she asked, more than a little bewildered.

And suddenly, Rachel seemed terribly nervous and no longer all that upset, and it made Quinn wonder what had been the end of that conversation. It made her wonder whether she should have stayed, in order to hear the ending of that conversation. It, strangely enough, made her wonder what had made Finn so angry.

Really, what odd thoughts to have when Rachel Berry was opening her mouth to speak.

"Quinn, I…" Her right hand rose, a little, and from her spot, where she was literally _frozen_ in her seat, she could see it tremble in the air, could see her fingers quivering, as they reached out to touch one of Quinn's wrists. And then, when they grazed her skin, Quinn found that she couldn't look away. "I just…"

Rachel's tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip in a subconscious gesture. "I really…"

"Yes…?" her voice came out in a whisper, and she was suddenly somehow nervous, almost as nervous as Rachel _looked, _and it was all really very disconcerting.

She hadn't meant to have this conversation. At all. But suddenly, somehow, she really, really wanted Rachel to finish her sentence.

And then the brunette shifted closer, so that their knees were touching. Her lips quivered. Quinn felt herself swallow in response. Elevated heart rate.

It only got worse when Rachel's other hand rose to lightly brush her cheek.

"W-what are you doing…?" her voice shook and came out in a way that she was ashamed to find was fairly breathy.

The other girl's eyes were dark, her gaze focused somewhere below Quinn's eyes. "Could I just try…?"

The doors swung open, and the blonde leapt from her seat. She nearly stumbled as she moved away as quickly as she could, leaving Rachel frozen in position behind her. Matt and Mike were laughing together, oblivious to what they'd interrupted. She stalked past them, intent on locking herself in her car and hyperventilating for a few good, long minutes.

And what was that? What _was_ that?

That thing in Rachel's eyes as she'd looked at her.

She bit her lip and drew her arms further around herself, wondering why the hell she felt so vulnerable.

-o-

"_Who is it?"_ he'd asked her, and she'd floundered for a way to answer him.

And Rachel hadn't been sure, then. She hadn't been sure, but the relationship hadn't felt right, and she'd started feeling guilty. The mild infatuation –or whatever the heck it was – had led to her lying to him on more than one occasion. And it wasn't right. It didn't feel right, to him, or to her.

So she'd decided to stop it.

"_It's…well, it's…"_

She hadn't known for sure, so she'd been hesitant.

"_Spit it out, Rachel."_

Now, though…Now, she was certain. And what she was feeling was way more than just a silly infatuation.

The realization made her want to cry, because now that she knew without the shadow of a doubt, it was entirely obvious to her that she didn't stand a chance.

"_It's Quinn."_

His face had momentarily crumpled.

"_What?"_

Honestly. She was half-convinced God hated her.

**A/N: **

Hey, guys. First one-shot. Well, maybe not, but that depends on all of _you. _I'm personally not sure I want to write more, but...it feels like I should at the same time. So maybe I will.

Either way, I hope you liked it.

Later.

PS: Sorry if the ending seems a little half-assed. In a way, I guess it was. D: Sorry. ILU.


End file.
